Flowershop

Chapter Thirty

Kiku had been spending the whole day with Yao, seeing as he would be leaving tomorrow.

He and Yao shared stories and reminisced about Kiku's childhood. But soon, Kiku got bored of the same stories and experiences, and aimed to get things out of his mother he had always hoped to hear.

"So... What about your childhood, mom?" He asked, nudging Yao's knees with his own. They had sat together on his checkered couch, and had the news on, although it was just background noise to the bigger picture. They seemed to tune it out and not even hear it as they spoke to each other about memories and with their laughter.

Yao paused for a moment, as if thinking how to say something. "I don't know, Kiku... Not very interesting. But, I was a troublemaker, haha! I did get into a lot of trouble," He said, looking at him with a chuckle. Kiku had heard nearly the same answer every time; and every time it reached his ears, he grew more skeptical. He wanted to know more, but he didn't want to push it at the same time. How to word it?
"You, Mr. Perfect? A trouble maker? Yeah, right," He joked, nudging his side with his elbow playfully. But Yao looked at him in the same way, nudging him back. "Son, you don't even know the half of it."
Kiku sat wondering in a daze about that line. What did he mean, trouble maker? Yao had told him before he was a bad kid, but... In what way? He always assumed he had bad grades, or a tendency to talk back or break school rules. But that didn't seem very much like Yao, not at all. Maybe he was very promiscuous?

"What, were you promiscuous? I know you've told me you lost your virginity at a young age."

"Well, I wasn't promiscuous, but yes, when I did lose it, I was very young, in fact."

Kiku was honestly shocked to hear this, as he always thought it was a joke.

"What, really?! With who, how young? A man, or a woman?" He asked, dropping what he was doing to look Yao straight in the face.
"He was a man. But this doesn't matter right now," He said, waving him off with an incessant hand.
"Anyways, I have something I want to show you, I don't know if I have before," He yawned, taking out his wallet. Kiku looked at it in skepticism; if it was in his wallet, he had to have seen it at one point.
"Here, this is a picture of me, back in China. 1977... I was sixteen. Ahaha, this really brings back memories... The first photo ever taken of me!" He said, leaning into Kiku. He handed the picture over, careful not to touch the surface with his hands.

Kiku looked at it for a second, at first looking at the quality of the picture. It was a grainy quality, black and white, but there were some tones of sepia in it. But then, he looked at Yao, and he had to double take.
He was young, very young, and wearing his school uniform still. His dry hair was tied slovenly in a half ponytail, flying and sticking up in all directions. Kiku knew he himself would never be allowed out with unruly hair such as that. But it was his facial expression that popped the most; He looked at the camera with such a devious, defiant smirk that Kiku himself couldn't even pull off. And the way he positioned himself- he took back his words. His image screamed "delinquent". But he kept looking at the aged picture and looking back at Yao's amused face. That face- it did not belong on him! He never thought Yao was capable of making such a face. And the way his hair was tied- It looked as if it were knotted in many places. Well- it looked as if Yao had really grown up...

Kiku's voice wavered with chuckles as he spoke to the delinquent himself. "Geez, mom- I believe you now, you look so much like a delinquent!"
He was met by a bark of laughter that didn't subside for a minute or two.
"Well, yes, I was quite the delinquent! Can't you tell?" He asked, wiping a tear of laughter from his eye. Kiku gently turned the picture over on the back. The back was yellowed from age and years of touching. On the back was written something in Chinese, which he had a difficult time reading.
"Shanghai, '77, Jiao and Yao. .... Forget"
He reread the miniscule inscription and squinted his eyes. He racked his brains. What did that character mean again...? Oh! Never. Never forget.